Song of Life and Death
by AndronBlaze
Summary: 20 classmates are thrown into Planetos during a trip in Prague. They will change the course of the Game of Thrones. Will contain violence and mature content. OC/OC, Asha G./OC.
1. Introduction

**To explain this AU to you, I decided to write this introduction. Following changes were made:**

 **Willam Dustin survives the Tower of Joy incident**

 **20 main OCs, along with some others, are born**

 **The starting year of the story is 302 AC, so everything is prevented by four years from the book**

 **Prologue is coming soon. Keep in mind that it is my first fanfic after all. LOVE YA!**


	2. Prologue

An old man sat in a bus, wanting to reach his home from the city centre. In his hands, he has a headline was about the missing class from Vienna that dissapeared in Prague a few days ago. People were wondering how they could've dissapeared so quickly and if they murdered their teachers, who were found dead in their hotel rooms. The man turned the page of the newspaper, only to remark that the bus arrived at the station he needed to exit at. After leaving the bus, he headed to the home he rented in the city.

He headed inside, ate, washed himself, and headed to the cellars of the home. The door creaked as it opened, only to reveal 20 corpses. _They're only sleeping,_ he conforted himself. He brought them here to change the story in the land he loves so much. It's an awful fate, to remain unconscious, but he knew it was better for the realm he had created. He looked to their faces, boys and girls, not older than 17. Well, one had grown a beard, so the old man wasn't sure. The alchemists of Prague enlightened him, showed him that magic was indeed real and shared with him enough information for the elder to save the realm, the one he loved. The old man looked into the cauldron in the middle of the room, a green liquid in it, glowing in a mystic light. _I have to do this, it's not wrong,_ the man thought. And yet he felt guilt for what he did. But what is done is done.

Taking his glasses off, he wiped a tear. The old man quickly threw away the sorrow at his actions and started the preparations for the ritual. He had learned that everything a person thinks and creates becomes a universe of its own, and he had to save this master piece. Blood was needed, and he retrieved a vial with the teacher's blood. _Here goes nothing._ The blood met the green liquid and the man almost was burned by the flame that ignited as soon as the blood met the liquid. Now all he had to do is to put a piece of the DNA to send them there, and the mess would be done. Stroking his beard, he went to take a piece of hair from every teenager. They were mostly Caucasian, but there was an Asian and an at least part African girl. After it was done, he threw the pieces of hair into the liquid. It looked like nothing had happened at first, but soon he saw a sort of bond made of plasma around the bodies. _It is done! I saved everything!_ , the man thought and without even looking back, he climbed up the stairs, locked the door to the cellar and threw it in a fireplace. He laid himself on a sofa, and closed his eyes, only to doze off a few minutes later…

* * *

 **I know it is short, but should a prologue be long, I ask?** **Anyway, your humble fresh author will try to make an update every day, but don't blame me if I don't; I have big plans with this fanfic, maybe a bit too big, but ok... Anyway, reviews are highly appreciated and private message me with questions if you ever need. As to clarify why there is magic in this world, it's just ONCE, ok? I won't give a clarification for it, cause there is none! Got it? Ok, love y'all!**

 **Your humble author**

 **P.S.: I won't reveal the identity of the old man either. That's up for interpretation, ok? For the sake of the story, he is known as 'the old man', alright?**


	3. Palla I

**mpowers045: Yes, they will be split in different camps, although I am only in a preparing phase. I have an outline for most characters, but I am not yet sure in what direction to bring this story. You shall see.**

 **Hey, for everyone asking what is happening, this chapter will be the only one BEFORE 302 AC in the timeline. This explains a bit of the background and shows what effect this OCs have on Westeros and Essos... I got pretty productive today, so I managed to actually start the chapters, for anyone asking. Anyway, I leave you to the story. Enjoy the read.**

* * *

"You will not leave!"

Silence befell the great hall. Palla didn't know if she should speak up for her twin or not or stay quiet, but she could tell that her father was not happy, he was angered.

"Father, I am a grown man, most capable to understand the dangers of seeking my bro-"

"Bastard brother! Haven't you heard the rumours? He killed two or more prostitutes, and he most likely will kill you!" Her father mustered her twin, with his icy cold eyes. For once, his eyes showed anger instead of eerie, false calmness. "Do-"

"I always wanted a brother! Ever since I arrived at the Redfort, I could only envy Jasper for the brothers he had! If you want to rob me of a brother, I won't let it!". And with that, Domeric stormed off. Palla looked at her father. Roose Bolton was slightly shocked, and the Dreadfort's great hall descended in the whispers of the castellan, his daughters and of the other guests. Palla was worried. This is the first time Domeric ever stormed off. She knew the truth about their bastard brother, Ramsay. He was the spawn of a miller's wife during the first night practice. While it was made illegal by the Targaryens, her father and a few other Northern nobles practiced it, though they acted with great care. If word of this practice reaches the ear of the Starks, it will lead in her father being called to Winterfell to answer for his crimes. But unlike the craven Jorah Mormont who fled, Roose would most likely rebel and start a war in the North. But with Eddard Stark being a friend of the king, he'd have no chance.

"Palla, listen to me!"

Palla snapped out of her thoughts. Roose Bolton, her father, most likely said something, but she didn't hear it.

"Forgive me, father. I was thinking about the situation.", she answered.

"The stablemaster informed me that Domeric rode out of the Dreadfort at full speed. You're the only one who can outrun him by horse. Please take him back, Ramsay is a danger" If even the legendary Leech Lord Roose Bolton was afraid of the bastard, she knew her brother was in danger.

"Of course, father", answered Palla and without any other word, she stormed out of the great hall of the Dreadfort, heading directly to the stables. She was scared, scared for Domeric, scared for her father, scared of what the bastard could do. The stablemaster already had her horse ready. She swung herself on the steed, and rode out of the Dreadfort, trying to spot Domeric. She rode through the evening, trying to reach her brother, her twin.

* * *

She finally found him, riding at full speed. It was said that the Bolton twins were the most talented riders in the North, even more talented than the famed Lyanna Stark. She didn't believe it one bit, but she was catching distance with her twin.

"Ric, wait! It's me, Palla!"

Domeric seemed to hear the words and slowed the horse down. She rode to him, wanting to talk with him. She had a bad experience with this Ramsay Snow, and she didn't want Domeric to meet him. His years staying at the Redfort in the Vale made him unaware of the things the bastard did. He was cruel, deadly and certainly mad. He didn't know, he just returned from the Vale, how could he? When she finally reached Domeric, she could see the anger in his eyes, and both looked at each other, not knowing what to say to one another. Then he spoke up:

"You shouldn't be here, sister. It's cold out here, and who knows what dangers run around here! You should re-"

"Ric, listen to me! You don't know what he did here. He killed a few prostitutes and said to his mother that he is a Bolton, and he will inherit the Dreadfort! He is mad, brother, with intent to murder us, so that HE can inherit the Dreadfort!", she sighed at the end. Domeric looked shocked and conflicted. "We must head back to the Dreadfort, or father will be enraged!"

Domeric shook his head: "What if the rumours are just what they are, rumours!"

Palla didn't want to tell him the truth, that she did the same mistake once. That she actually saw him, and he... he... she couldn't hold it anymore, she needed to tell him that.

 **"He almost raped me, Ric!"**

Instantly, Domeric's face changed colour. He went pale, and his eyes widened in shock. He got down from his horse, and got Palla down too, who was now crying. She could see between her tears the expression of her twin comforting for her, holding her in her arms. There was silence, a silence which felt liked forever for Palla.

"I-.. I didn't know...", he finally said. It was clear that he felt conflicted, shocked and disgusted at the thought. "Did you ride to him, too?"

Palla just nodded, and stayed silence. The memory of him holding her down to rape her, only for her father to enter the room and stop him from that, was still fresh, and felt like it happened yesterday, even though 6 moons passed since then. Ever since... she has been distrustful of strangers, of people she didn't trust.

"It's alright, sister, we will ride back. Thank you for sharing this with me, it must be very hard for you to say it."

He understood, and that's what mattered. He got the message, that he should keep away from the bastard.

"I am gonna kill him, Palla, I promise. Once I-"

"No! It would make you a kinslayer!" Palla looked deep into the eyes of her brother. Both shared the grey-green eyes of their mother. She pointed with her eyes at the horses: "We should ride back, before father rides himself here!" He nodded, and they both swung up on their horses and rode through the chilly night back to the Dreadfort. And Palla knew she most likely saved her brother today.

* * *

The Dreadfort was already in sight, when Palla spotted a party of riders riding in the their direction. As they got closers, they recognized their father.

"Domeric, Palla! Thank the gods you're alright. I was worried!"

Roose rode faster and arrived in front of his children. Immediatly, Domeric excused himself: "Forgive me, father. It was foolish of me to seek out my bastard brother." He then looked to the ground, ashamed of his actions. Roose, to the surprise of Palla, turned around and commanded the other riders to return to the Dreadfort. "Now, Palla. Did you tell him what happened?" Palla swallowed hard before she nodded. "I am sorry that I didn't tell you, Domeric. But you just arrived and we didn't want to spoil your joy to see us again."

"Why can't you contact Eddard Stark and ask him to execute the bastard! He almost raped her!" Domeric looked angry and full of vengeance, and for once, he truly resembled their father when he was angry. "Why?", he asked once again.

Their father just froze and said: "Because if I tell Stark to do it, my secret would be blown away. I'd be a wanted man and House Bolton would be destroyed, that is why."

"What about the Hornwoods, or Manderlys, or Umbers? They surely cou-"

"Son, the Hornwoods and Manderlys shun the first night rite and the Umbers might do it, but they'd certainly tell that to Lord Stark in order to get rid of me. Son, there is no other way."

Palla knew the truth in her father's words. No one trusted the Boltons, the flayers. They were on their own. Sure, the Dustins and Ryswells like them well enough, but Lord Dustin is more loyal to the Starks and the Ryswells are too far away and too weak to actually hold much power on their own. They are more dependent on Bolton and Dustin help than the other way round. Domeric looked like he wanted to say something in protest, but instead, he kept to himself.

He finally then said: "Let's head back to the Dreadfort, it's getting cold and look how Palla is clothed"

Roose nicked and together with his son and daughter rode back to the Dreadfort. It was a short ride, and they arrived safely. She got of her steed and she went to her room, where she told a maid to prepare her a bath. She was cold everywhere and she needed to feel the heated water on her skin. She couldn't believe she told Domeric her secret, what the bastard tried to do to her. She still shuddered at the thought.

After a few minutes, the maid told her that the water was ready for bathing. She thanked the maid, stripped off her clothes and admired her reflection in the water. Palla has dark hair and grey-green eyes, and she couldn't help but smile at it. It was said that she was truly beautiful, a beauty kept in a dire castle like the Dreadfort. She laid herself in the tub and began washing herself from the ride and warming herself. Truly, she was exhausted and she planned on going to sleep very soon.

* * *

 **There you have it, the first true chapter, with only a bit under 2000 words! This chapter was set 297 AC, for everyone to know. All other chapters will be set from 302 AC onward, and we shall see the result of this fanfiction.** **My lords, if you'll excuse me, I have to write the next chapter. Hint: axes in the cold. Yeah, I'll leave hints so you can guess and speculate about my intentions on what will happen in the story. Anyway, love y'all and I'll see you guys tomorrow (hopefully) with 1-2 chapters, alright? Alright? Ok, PEACE!**


	4. Tobyas I

**mpowers045: It is basically the events of Season 1 starting later, albeit a bit altered due to what happened with the OCs and such. You have seen that with Domeric's survival in this AU. The White Walkers have also been slowed down a bit, and only started to stir in 300 AC, alright?**

 **Warning! Sexual content included! Also, I don't own anything besides my OCs!**

 **Alright, second chapter! We shall see what happens next. Enjoy the read!**

* * *

"Don't whimper so much, boy. You still have much to learn"

Sparring was Tobyas' favourite activity. He would spar all day if he could, even if it meant having bruises and sore muscles the entire time. He didn't care, and he wasn't going to give up now. His opponent was Willam Dustin, Lord of Barrowton and of the Barrowlands. Although he wasn't fostered by the Dustins, he and his friend Theon, the heir to House Greyjoy, often travelled to Barrowton, due to both being liked by Lady Dustin.

Sparring with Lord Dustin was certainly not an easy task. He is a seasoned warrior, known to be one of the three survivors of Lord Stark's party that went to save Lyanna Stark from Dorne, without success. He was the one who was said to have killed Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Lord Dustin swung his sword for his unprotected left leg, only to be parried by Tobyas, and Tobyas struck the man on the side, opening a wound. He smirked, but was overwhelmed by an attack on his right leg. He fell on his back, every muscle of him aching.

"Not feeling so lucky now, boy?", said Lord Dustin. "Let me give you a hand." He extended his hand, which Tobyas took, and stood up from the dirt. He could see Lady Dustin sitting with her daughters, Sarra and Della, eating lemon cakes. On the side of the sparring ground were Torrhen Dustin and Theon Greyjoy, ever with their cocky smiles on their lips. _You gonna get it back, you two,_ Tobyas thought.

Tobyas stepped out of the sparring grounds. "Not so lucky, today, talon?" Theon always knew what to say to get a smile on his mouth. "At least I didn't lose to Ronnel fucking Stout!" The smile immediatly fell, Torrhen began to laugh loudly and Ronnel shoved Tobyas playfully. Ronnel was certainly the worst of the four friends in swordmanship, and Theon lost to him by chance today.

Tobyas passed them by, heading down to where Lady Dustin and her daughters. Sarra and Della shared their mother's and father's brown hair and their grey eyes were soft, unlike the harsh grey eyes of steel of the Starks. Not that the young Starks looked like Starks. All but three looked like Tullys, and one of them was a bastard. Still, he saw softness in the Dustin eyes, which warmed him a bit.

"Is my Young Falcon fine?" Oh, Sarra was a sweet one. It was known in the Barrow Hall that the heir to the Eyrie was infatuated in the eldest Dustin daughter, and luckily, the feeling was given back by her. They have shared kisses in the past, and she was the reason he travelled to Barrowton so often. Well, that, and that Torrhen and Ronnel were good friends of his.

"A few bruises, a few cuts, the usual thing.", he scoffed teasingly. Sarra and Della began to giggle and Lady Dustin looked with interest to the young man. She caught them kissing a few months back, and she had approved of their relation, mainly due to her also having a lover in her youth, no one less than Brandon Stark, the Wolf who was burned alive by the Mad King nine-and-ten years ago. Yet still, he felt unconfortable in her presence, not knowing if she told Lord Dustin or not.

"Would you like a lemon cake?", asked Lady Dustin. Tobyas, not wanting to be rude, accepted and munched on the cake. He didn't particularely like them, but if it meant spending more time with his lover, he is disposed to do anything.

* * *

Tobyas excused himself from the great hall of the Barrow Hall, not wanting to disturb any further. He was tired and sore from the spar, and wanted to sleep as soon as possible. Torrhen was still eating and talking with his sisters, but Theon and Ronnel already left beforehand. _The squid surely went to a brothel to fuck some more,_ he thought. Ronnel was most likely dining at the small keep of the Stouts within Barrowton, Goldgrass. The wind was chilly tonight and as Tobyas wandered to his room.

He entered his room and ordered a maid to prepare a bath, as he sat down on his bed and waited for the maid to finish. The maid hurried, as she was told to, and soon enough, the bath was ready. He took off his clothes and headed to the tub, laid himself in it, and closed his eyes for a minute, just to enjoy the heat.

Tobyas suddenly felt a hand entering the water and grabbing his shaft. He immediately opened his eyes to see Sarra, grinning. He leaned in for a kiss, and she took it. They stayed like this for a while, before she dragged him out of the tub. He sighed, but nonetheless followed her, drying himself as she laid herself on his bed.

"I want you to give me your Lord's Kiss, Toby." He grinned at her desire, they did this before. But he shook his head: "Sorry darling, but I am really tired. Tomorrow." She looked at him, understanding, as she saw the bruises and cuts of her lover. She leaned in for another kiss. Before she left his chamber, she said: "Good night, my Falcon Knight." And then she left.

He remembered the day he hunted the Night's Watch deserters who formed a bandit group a year ago, which terrorized the Sheepshead Hills. He personally slew three of these deserters and restrained their leader. There, Ser Wendel Manderly knighted him on the spot, to the shock of both Lord Stark and himself. He proudly bears the title ever since, and his father told him how proud he was of his knighthood.

Changing into sleeping clothes, he laid himself in bed. This was a heck of a week here in Barrowton. He hunted, sparred, laughed and generally rode in and around Barrowton, and he felt more homely here than in Winterfell. He respected Lord Eddard and his children, but he could never grow accomodated in Winterfell. He thought that the castle had a dark secret, and he shunned the crypt. Something was wrong with it, and he knew it. The falcon observes everything and anything, it was said. And people told him that he had hawkish eyes, ever observing. Lord Stark once told him he looked like a younger version of his father, with sandy hair, blue eyes and an aquiline nose. His brother had little in common besides his hawkish blue eyes. Robert had a nose like their mother's and his hair was said to be the same colour as their grandmother's, Minisa Whent, who died some years ago.

Remembering that he needed to write his brother a letter, he lit a candle and went to the desk to write.

* * *

Tobyas was in King's Landing, in the Tower of the Hand. He heard an argument. As he went up the stairs, he saw a small boy, with sandy hair. The boy could merely be two-and-ten, if not younger. He held in his arms another boy, an infant not older than two. The small one looked at the old one, who was crying and tried to find out why he was crying. The elder in turn kissed him on the brown hair the small boy had.

Realisation struck Tobyas as he recognized the scene as one of his childhood memories. _I must be dreaming,_ he thought. This was the day his father told mother that Robert should stop suckling and start eating real food. They had a big argument, and Tobyas started it all, because he was worried Robert would remain weak if he wouldn't begin eating hard food. He told his father that falcons push their young from the nest so often, until they learn to fly. And his father suddenly understood.

The image changed. It was the harbour of Gulltown. Tobyas saw a bit younger version of himself and Robert embracing their father and mother. While their father was happy, Lysa Arryn, their mother, was not. She looked unhappy, since her Sweetrobin was too young to leave his mother's side and go to the icy North, even if it was her older sister who was going to look after them. Tobyas has already been in the North for one year in total, being six months in Winterfell, and six months either at the Eyrie or King's Landing. But Robert was going North for the first time, and Robert asked his brother about the people there. And yet, Tobyas saw the anger in his mother's eyes and the glares she gave to Jon Arryn.

The image changed once again. It was in the garden of the Red Keep. He saw Littlefinger, a friend of his mother, speaking with his mother. _Odd, I don't remember this_ , the Young Falcon thought. As he went closer, he could hear their voices.

"Sweet darling, these are Tears of Lys. Put them in Jon's wine and he'll die" Tobyas wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He was in shock about this image. _Surely this isn't real, it's just a dream!_ "Will this leave no mark, Petyr?"

"No, it will be a quick fever, which will take him" Tobyas listened, horrified by the thought that his mother could kill his father.

"And then we will marry and be together forever, Petyr?"

"Forever."

* * *

Tobyas woke up, gasping. _It was just a nightmare, Tobyas, calm down,_ he thought. He got out of his bed and went to wash his face a bit. He surely didn't have a good sleep and his muscles were still quite a bit sore from yesterday's spar. It was still very early outside, and the sun was only now beginning to rise. It was still a few hours until court life would start in the Barrow Hall. He dressed himself, took the letter and sealed it, took his bow and arrow and went to the practice range.

He delivered the letter to the maester, who was luckily already up, and went to the practice range. Theon was already there, shooting arrow after arrow. _Let's show this squid what an Arryn is made of_. It was known that the Arryns were very good bowmen. People would say the Arryns have eyes as sharp as those of falcons, which made them so good. And Tobyas knew this had a bit of truth in it. The Arryns had a family trait of having good sight. He can't remember one Arryn who ever needed Myrish lenses.

Just as Theon wanted to shoot another arrow, Tobyas swiftly shot one, hitting the bullseye. Theon turned around and grinned. "Ah, the lovebird. How is it going with Sarra" Tobyas quickly drew an arrow out of his quiver and shot it at the feet of Theon. He jumped back. "You don't need to take it this far, I was only japing!" Laughing, the Young Falcon went down to the practice range and practiced a bit.

"Tobyas, you must come here for a second." It was Lady Dustin, and had a bit of a worried tone in her voice. He went immediately to the lady, who just came out of the great hall. "Yes, my lady?", Tobyas asked. She looked a bit distressed, worried about something.

"Tobyas, your father died. A fever took him."

Tobyas fainted.

* * *

 **For explanation, only Sarra Dustin is one of the 20 OCs brought into this world. Means that Della and Torrhen Dustin are just side effects of this universe, ok?**

 **What do we have here? Yes, the events of Game of Thrones just started, meaning soon the king will come to Winterfell. But anyway, here is the hint for the next chapter: ice, arrows and woods.**

 **I am happy about reviews and private message me with questions, ok? Good. Your humble author.**


	5. Marlon I

**mpowers045: Yeah, their bodies are still sort of alive, but their souls are in Planetos. Aye.**

 **Hello, and welcome back!**

 **I know that Sweetrobin is sickly, but he got better treatment than with Lysa and Maester Colemon. He is healthier than in the books and the series. A bit more proud, as well.**

 **Welcome to arrows, ice and woods. Please enjoy this new chapter from me, your humble writers. Let's start!**

* * *

"What is it? Go on, father's watching... and your mother"

Marlon cringed at the last part of the sentence. He could never understand how Jon never thought himself a Stark. He wanted to tell him that he is a Stark, want it or not. But Lady Stark was watching. The woman who can't love a motherless child. Marlon disregarded the thought, paying more attention to Robert, who was, like Bran, practicing with the bow. Sweetrobin, they called him, and he truly is sweet. He may be a bit sickly, but he got better by the time he got here. _Must be the fresh Northern air_ , Marlon thought.

"Come on, Bran. You can do better!" Bran missed the target again. Robb and Jon clearly looked amused, and that was a relief. "And which of you was a marksman at 12?". That was Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and Marlon's father. "Toby was!", exclaimed Robert. The group went out in laughter. Robert was trained by Tobyas with the bow, who truly mastered the bow, and Robin had that talent, too. _Must be these hawkish eyes these Arryns have._

With that, Robert fired an arrow, which hit the bullseye. "Very good, Robin!", exclaimed Marlon. "Toby would be proud", he added and ruffled the hair of the boy, who in return giggled a bit.

"Go on, Bran.", said Lord Stark finally. Bran looked nervous. He surely wanted to make Lord Stark proud. "Don't think too much, Bran", said Jon. "Relax your bow arm", added Robb.

Suddenly, an arrow hit the bullseye. Marlon looked at Bran, wanting to praise him, only to see that he didn't fire the arrow. He turned around, only to see Arya curtseying. Bran instantly dropped the bow and ran after her, and Robert joined Bran in the hunt for her. Bran and Robert get along very good, and they are good friends.

"Faster, you two, faster!", shouted Marlon after them. He then looked to Rickon, only 7, and asked him: "Will you help me gather the arrows?" Rickon nodded in excitement, running off, and helping Jon, Robb and Marlon gather the arrows. As they gathered, he could only think about this day. Most likely he'll ride out with Arya in secret, and then train with her in the Wolfswood.

"Boys, deserter! Get to your horses!" Marlon sighed, knowing what was going to happen. He ruffled Rickon's hair again and went to the stables. _It's gonna be a long day._

* * *

They arrived at the execution place. A man, bearded, around 50, was restrained by Hullen, one of the guards of Winterfell. He was missing his ears, but they looked cut off. He was looking distressed, as if mad. What could make a man so mad? He needed to know, or he'd go mad as well. It was known that Marlon was seeking knowledge more than anything else. And he wanted to know what made this man desert.

"Father, may I interrogate this deserter?" Lord Stark looked rather surprised. He looked as if wanting to refuse, but seeing Marlon's demanding look, he nodded subtly. "My son wants a word with the deserter!"

Marlon thanked and went straight to the man. He looked him in the eyes. He looked as if he's seen a ghost. Something happened to him, and it must have terrorized him and made him desert, made him flee south.

"How long have you been in the Night's Watch?" The man hesitated, before answering: "Fourty years, m'lord." He looked down, with guilt.

"Builder, steward or ranger?"

"Ranger, m'lord."

Marlon studied him. He certainly looked like he just returned from ranging beyond the Wall. Or that's what he thought he looked like.

"You were ranging beyond the Wall, weren't you? What happened, and who was ranging with you?"

The man gulped. "I- I was with Ser Waymar Royce and Will, a... a hunter from the Cape of Eagles."

"I met Ser Waymar, on his way to Castle Black, he stayed at Winterfell. I thought Benjen Stark might have been in your party. Now, what happened on the ranging?"

His eyes opened in shock. "We- we were sea- searching for a wildling party. And... and..."

"Calm down, and tell me."

He took a minute to calm down. Hullen shouted that Marlon should finish soon, but his father made him quiet.

"Will found them. Butchered. We wanted to return, and... and... and the White Walkers were there! Killed Ser Waymar! Me and Will ran, we didn't see each other again! You must believe me, m'lord!"

He studied his eyes. He was certainly telling the truth, even if it sounded like madness. _This can't be true! I must write to Uncle Benjen about this._ Regaining his posture, he studied the man once again. He told the truth, and Uncle Benjen wouldn't send him out if he was mad.

"How did you pass the Wall?"

"The Nightfort, m'lord."

"What is your name?"

"Gared, m'lord."

"You know that you will die because of deserting, Gared?"

He nodded, and he looked sad, frightened at the concept of death. He couldn't let him suffer, could he?

"Any last words you want me to send to my uncle Benjen, Gared?"

"Tell him wha- what I told you. And that I am sorry for being a coward."

Marlon nodded again. He left the side of the man. "We can start." Lord Stark nodded. Lord Stark went to the man, preparing for the execution. He could see in his father's eyes that he wasn't keen on killing the man. Neither was Marlon. He went to Robert's side, who was clearly shaken by the concept of seeing a man die. Yet he insisted on it, as he should know what he must do as a warrior.

"In the name of Robert Baratheon, the first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, I, Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to die".

And with that, his father unsheated Ice, the ancestral weapon of House Stark, and chopped his head off. It went smoothly as a knife through butter. He could feel Robert shiver a bit when the blade hit the neck. But it was over now.

* * *

Marlon looked at the great stag blocking the way. It had wounds that were too massive for any animal he knew. Except for bears, and they don't attack stags. _What killed this stag?,_ he thought. He had raced with Robb and Jon to this place, and this stag blocked the way.

He heard the horses of the party approaching. As his father saw the beast, he got off the horse and went to inspect the body of the great beast on the road.

"What killed it?", he asked

"A shadowcat, maybe?" Oh, shadowcats were common in the Vale, but there were none in the North

"No shadowcats in these woods, boy. Jory, Desmond, Tomard, Harwin, take the body off the road. The rest, look for beast that killed this stag."

Everyone spread around, Marlon drew his sword and went into the woods, looking for the killing source. He saw a grey body, of a great beast lying there. _A direwolf!_ Marlon approached, and saw that it was not only a dead direwolf, but six. Six pups were pressing against the direwolf's belly. _A she-wolf and her pups!_

Marlon called everyone to the body. Everyone watched the mother and the pups in amazement. Silence befell the group, the awe was too strong for words to express.

"A direwolf", said Marlon, to break the silence. His father nodded, and suddenly grabbed for a wound in her chest. He pulled out a broken antler.

"Tough old beast. Must have birthed with this antler stuck in her chest." Yes, it seemed like blood loss and exhaustion were the death of the direwolf.

"There are no direwolves south of the Wall.", replied Robb.

"Now there are six.", said Jon, picking up one of them. He turned around to Bran. "You want to hold it?" Bran nodded in excitement. He and Robert petted the pup in excitement. "Where will they go? Their mother's dead."

Lord Stark looked at the pups and said: "Better a quick death. They won't last without their mother." Hullen went to grab the pup in Bran's arm, but Marlon intervened.

 **"No!"**

"I take orders from your father, not from you!", Hullen replied. Marlon wanted to gut Hullen there on the spot, and he most likely would have done it, weren't it for Jon.

"Lord Stark? There are six direwolves, two females and four males. You have six children, two girls and four boys. House Stark has a direwolf as sigil. Your children were meant to have them, Milord."

The words made Marlon shiver. _If this is an omen of the old gods, what's it supposed to mean,_ he thought. _A direwolf south of the... south! If a Stark, hence a direwolf, goes south, he'll be killed by a stag. By a Baratheon!_

He was broken from his thoughts by Lord Stark's voice: "You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves. And if they die, you will bury them yourselves." Bran smiled at the words and took the wolf pup with him, with Robert close behind him. Marlon turned around and looked at the remaining pups. Two were black, three were grey. He picked up the two black ones, and one of them opened his eyes. A more icy blue one could never find. _This one's mine,_ Marlon thought.

Bran turned to Jon. "What about you?"

"I'm no Stark. Get on!" Oh, how angry was Marlon at Jon. He still didn't consider himself a wolf, and that made him very angry. As they were preparing to leave, Jon turned around. "Did you hear that?" Jon went to a bush, and dragged out a white pup. It's eyes were open, and they were red as blood.

"An albino!", Marlon said, not aware that he was thinking aloud.

"The runt of the litter. This one's mine!"

* * *

As they returned to Winterfell, they could see Arya and Rickon playing together, and Sansa watching them, with a disgusted face. Sansa was the perfect lady, taking after their mother. As Marlon dismounted the horse, he took the two wolf pups from the saddle bag. Jon and Robb did the same from theirs. Immediatly Rickon and Arya came to them, with interest on their faces. Sansa also came, most likely because she saw the interest in Rickon and Arya's eyes.

"What are these?", asked Rickon. Marlon put the pups on the ground and answered promtly: "Direwolf pups."

"Direwolves? South of the Wall?" Sansa was surprised, and she immediately took one of the female ones in her arms. It licked her in return. "Hey, stop it!"

Arya looked very surprised. "Why are they here?" _Oh, how she would rejoice when I tell her,_ Marlon thought, but Jon got ahead of him.

"Father gave them to us. There were seven and we are seven. They are now our pets." And indeed Arya rejoiced.

"Direwolves as pets? That is incredible!" Arya laughed and Rickon was excited, as well. He went forward and picked one of the black ones, who had green eyes.

"Shaggydog!"

Everyone laughed, and the direwolf seemed to like the name. Content, he wandered off. Robb frowned: "Did he just really name a direwolf Shaggydog?" He shook his head, and picked one of them. "This one's mine!"

Soon, everyone picked their own. Arya picked the second female pup and promptly named her Nymeria, after her childhood hero. Sansa named the one in her arms Lady. _How typical of both!_ The albino was claimed by Jon who named him Ghost, and for once, the name fitted. Ghost was white as snow, with blood-red eyes and he never, ever made a sound. Bran already picked his one at the bridge there, but he didn't know a name for him. Robb didn't know a name for his own direwolf either.

Marlon reached out for his direwolf, taking him in his hands. His icy blue eyes stared into his soul, and he knew the name for him instantly.

"I'll call my pup Ice", he promptly announced. Jon, Robb and Bran approved of the name, while Arya just said how stupid it is.

"Don't you have a hero?", she asked.

"Only father.", he replied. It was known that Marlon admired his father very much. And it was said that he looked very much like him. He had no visible Tully traits, unlike his other brothers.

Suddenly, he could hear horses enter the keep. He turned around only to see Tobyas Arryn and Theon Greyjoy on their horses. _Weird,_ Marlon thought. _They were supposed to return in a week from Barrowton._ After they dismounted their horses, they headed straight to the Stark children rounded up around the direwolf pups.

"Where is Robin? I must talk with him.", he said, clearly distressed.

"No greetings, huh? Look, we got direwolf pups!"

"You'll show them to me later! Where is Robin?" _This is unusual. Toby only does this when he is sad or angry._

"Inside, he was with us at an execution, he felt a bit sick. Why?"

"My father is dead."

* * *

 **Oh, it starts to boil! Anyway, hint of the next chapter: eyasses, feasts and bastards.**

 **Write reviews, please! I insist! It would bring so much joy to me!**

 **Until next time, your humble author.**


	6. Alek I

**mpowers045: Thanks, and I am happy you like the name of the direwolf.**

 **People, write reviews! It saddens me to see that only one person writes reviews. So move your ass and write a review, alright? Ok? Good. Let's continue with the story!**

* * *

A northern wind blew Alek in the face. They've been a month now on the road, and there was no decent bed along the road to rest his back on. _I may be 25, but I already feel as if I'm as old as Ser Barristan the Bold!_ , he thought. Beside him rode the king, and the king's squires, Tyrek Lannister and Lancel Lannister. Tyrek was very excited about visiting Winterfell, he never had been outside of King's Landing, Lannisport or the Riverlands. Lancel was acting arrogantly, as always, a proud fool. Ser Kevan didn't deserve such an heir. His cousin was very cocky, more proud than the Serretts of Silverhall themselves, and their words were 'I am no rival'. _Fool,_ Alek thought.

Tyrek looked tired, he most likely couldn't wait to arrive at Winterfell. "Your Grace, how much until Winterfell?" The king turned around and laughed. "How are you supposed to become a knight if you complain all the time? Take an example on Ser Alek! He kept me from becoming fat, and believe me, that task is more tiring than riding a month to the North!" That was true. 10 years ago, Alek, a boy of fifteen then, entered the courtyard, only to see a man who was fattening. He expected a warrior, and at the boy's request to show him how to fight, Robert Baratheon trained him. And he never gained weight again, even lost a stone or two. Through the training came a friendship, which led to him being knighted and named the King's representative at the Small Council meetings. It meant he was to attend and note everything decided by the council, while the King fucked whores and hunted boars.

"If you ever want to become like him, then stop complaining! If I know Alek well enough, he's most likely cursing in his head from being tired!"

Tyrek, Alek and the King began to laugh. Oh, how much Alek loved to laugh, it made him feel alive. Only Lancel stood there, unmoved. Most likely trying to show his seriousness. Ser Meryn Trant arrived and told them that Winterfell was spotted by sentries. Tyrek looked eased at the news, and Lancel looked indifferent. Looking at the King, he could just feel a big friendship. He was the father Alek never had, since his father died when he was four.

Suddenly, Prince Joffrey rode up to the group of four. On his face was a cocky smile, but when he looked at Alek, he had a hint of gratitude in his eyes. While his father also trained and sparred with him, it was Alek who taught him how to ride, how to hunt and how to be patient, how to be gallant. Alek felt obligated to do so, because the King treated him like a father, and thus felt obligated to do so. Alek knew that Joffrey did cruel things, but he tried to impress his father, although it was in a wrong way. So he trained him how to impress his father in a right way. And with time, his father was impressed, and devoted more of his time with him. This seemed to calm him, yet despite his best efforts, Joffrey would make a poor king, but with a strong Hand, he'll make do. Alek knew that. Or at least he hoped that.

* * *

The entire household of Winterfell fell on their knees once the king entered the courtyard, flanked by his trusted knight and his two squires. He dismounted his horse without any problems, despite the fat that has accumulated on the king. He headed for the Stark household, who were kneeling. When he reached them, he gave them a sign to rise. The king put his two hands on Eddard Stark's shoulders.

"You've got fat."

Instantly, there was silence, and Alek could barely contain his laugh. Lord Stark gave him a 'what about you' look, and instantly, the two friends laughed. Everyone calmed down, seemingly happy that the king didn't destroy it all.

"It's been far too long, what was it, 9 years? Where have been you been?"

"Guarding the North for you, your Grace"

The King embraced Lady Stark, and ruffled the hair of the youngest Stark child, a boy with red hair and blue eyes. The boy smiled. The King continued, and reaching his hand to seemingly the oldest Stark boy. "You must be Robb." The boy nodded. So this was Robb Stark, the heir to the North. He looked nothing like a Stark, more like a Tully. The King headed on, to the second boy, who looked like a younger version of Lord Stark. "And you must be Marlon, the second boy." The second also nodded. The King went to the eldest daughter, a true beauty, also taking by her mother. "My, you are a pretty one", the King said. He headed to the next Stark child. Wouldn't she wear a gown and have a ponytail, he could swear that would be a boy, but a handsome one, that would be. She had the Stark looks of brown hair and grey eyes, grey as steel. The King just froze in front of her, before retaking composture. Lord Stark looked nervous, as if something were wrong.

"What is your name?", the King asked.

"Arya.", she said, almost spatting, and without adding 'your Grace'. Lady Stark looked in shock, but the King took no action. Instead, he went to the next Stark boy, who also took by the mother. "Show me your muscles!", the King said. The boy, grinning, showed his apparently already trained muscles. "You're going to become a knight!", the King said. Then, Lord Stark stepped forward, and made sign to some boys behind the Stark children. Immediately, the Stark children stepped aside and made place for three persons. _Toby and Robin, of course. The King must give them condolences._ "My wards, your Grace." The King made a sign to Tyrek and Lancel, and they headed for the carriage wagon.

"Lord Tobyas Arryn and Robert Arryn. It's good to see you again!", the King exclaimed. "Condolences about your father." The eyes of the Sweetrobin turned dark at the mention of his father. He still must be sad about it. "Thank you, your Grace.", thanked Tobyas politely.

Tyrek and Lancel returned, and in their hands were two eyasses with small helmets on their heads, though they looked more than ready to fly anyday, since they already had feathers. Tobyas and Robert looked at eachother in excitement.

"I feel in debt to your father, who was like a second father to me. He wanted to gift you these two when you would return to King's Landing, but as you will return to the Eyrie now, I might as well give them to you now."

They were given the two eyasses, and Tobyas proceeded to help his brother put the glove on, before putting it on himself. Tobyas then removed the helmet from his one, and the falcon turned to him. And in an instant, it flew as if it had before, and perched itself on his shoulder. The crowd gasped in awe. The Sweetrobin did the same, and his one did too fly to his shoulder, but his was not as strong. _The gods have a funny way to play jokes,_ Alek thought. The king then looked at the third ward, dressed in Greyjoy colors. _Of course, that's the Greyjoy heir._ The King did not look at Greyjoy much, instead turning to Lord Stark.

"Where is your bastard, Ned?"

The courtyard fell once again in silence at the mention of Lord Stark's bastard. Lady Stark's face darkened. The bastard stepped forward. He too had the Stark looks, but he didn't have brown hair, but pitchblack one, and his eyes had something different about it. They were darker, as if concealing the true eye colour of the boy.

"Your name?"

"Jon... Jon Snow"

The King grumbled for awhile before saying: "I expect you at the feast tonight, Jon Snow! I want to talk with you!"

* * *

The feast hall was quite full this night. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, from the Stark siblings, to the Arryn brothers, even the Dustin party that arrived a bit later in Winterfell. Yet something seemed wrong. While the King was busy fiddling with some common wench, Marlon Stark, the second son of Lord Stark, went outside. _Well, he might search for his half-brother._ Alek had previously overheard Lady Stark ordering the bastard to stay out of the great hall. _I need fresh air anyway, so why not look,_ he thought, excused himself from the table and went outside. There, he saw Marlon Stark talk with his half-brother.

"If the King said you should attend the feast, you should!"

"But... your mother won't allow it..."

"By the Seven Hells, Jon, if she says anything, I will talk this out. I-"

Just then, a rider arrived through the gates of Winterfell. When he stepped into the light of a torch, he could see the brown, long hair and the blue eyes of the person. He was dressed all in black. _A Night's Watchman! Wonder what the problem is at the Wall..."_ The two Stark boys also noticed the rider, and while the simpleton of a stable boy took the horse away, he went to the two boys.

"Uncle Benjen, you're here!" Alek put two and two together and figured out this must be Benjen Stark, last surviving sibling of Eddard Stark, and a Night's Watchman. Though it seemed he had a high rank, maybe even Lord Commander. _No, that's the Old Bear Mormont, not Stark._

"I couldn't leave your father alone with the Lannisters, could I?"

"Ah, being a Lannister is bad, huh?"

The three turned around to Alek, who now stepped into light. He put on a cocky smile, and the faces of the two Stark boys lost their smile, but this Benjen Stark didn't lose his.

"With whom do I have the honour?"

"Ser Alek Lannister, son of Ser Tygett Lannister, the King's representative in the Small Council."

"Pleasure to meet you, Ser Alek." Benjen Stark extended his hand, which Alek took and shook. "Cold, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I guess you northeners are accustomed to these temperatures."

The three smiled, and Jon and Marlon snickered. Benjen wanted to head inside and excused himself.

"I am sorry, Ser, but I'd rather head inside. Marlon, I hear you have interrogated Gared. Tell me inside." And with that, Marlon and Benjen dissapeared inside. The bastard took a sword again and began to hit the target. Ser Alek snickered.

"What is so funny?"

The smile of Alek widened. "Why hit a target dummy, when you have a knight to spar with? Give me a sword!"

Jon smiled and threw him a dull training sword, which Alek caught in the air. The two sparred, and while Jon was clearly a very skilled swordsman, he was no match for Alek. Soon, Alek had him on the ground, with a sword at his throat.

"Cousin, this is what you do on this cold night instead of drinking and talking?"

The two turned around to see Tyrion Lannister, his cousin. "Tyrion, done fucking whores yet?"

"Oh, never. And I suppose you're the bastard of Lord Stark?"

Jon looked furious, but before anything could happen, Alek intervened: "He is more Stark than some of his siblings ever will, cousin."

At these words, both Jon and Tyrion chuckled. Tyrion approached the bastard and said: "Never let someone hurt you with your bastardy. Wear it like armour, and let it protect you, not harm you!"

Jon's gaze darkened. "What do you know about being a bastard?"

"All dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes." There, Tyrion spoke the truth, the ugly truth. "In addition to that, we have a bastard cousin, Joy Hill. She has been lucky to be allowed to live in Casterly Rock."

Jon instantly relaxed and Alek turned to him: "You should head inside and search your brother and uncle. And if Lady Stark tells you to go out, tell her that I will be most offended if you are not inside. Understood?"

Jon nodded and ,with a smile, followed Tyrion inside. Alek wandered around the courtyard, and before too long, he heard a pair of moans. Being in the direction of where Alek was wandering, he head there. He saw two persons kissing each other passionately. Alek recognized Tobyas Arryn and one of the Dustin girls standing near the guest room of Tobyas, kissing.

"Care to do it inside, Toby? I doubt Lord Dustin would be pleased."

The two looked around in surprise.

* * *

 **Sorry that I didn't post a chapter yesterday, I will try to upload more consistently. But over the Easter break, I will be rather unable to post, so I ask for patience. Thank you, your humble author. Hint: fall, rise, hunt.**


	7. Tobyas II

**mpowers045: Yes, there will later be lemons. I already have started a relation (Sarra Dustin/Tobyas Arryn), but I'll add more, promise ;-)**

 **Guys, sorry to dissapoint you, but we'll not see much of anything else but the Royal Party in the next few chapters. Ok?**

 **Rise, fall, hunt. Let's go!**

* * *

Tobyas was not impressed with the sparring skills of Bran and Tommen. Sure, they were kids, Bran only 12 and Tommen 11, but for their age, they were a bit too clumsy and too unmannered. _Even Robin could do better,_ he thought, though made sure to not voice his thoughts. He was besides Rodrik Cassel and Ser Alek Lannister, two very capable swordsmen. He had sparred with Ser Alek before the spar of Bran and Tommen, and Ser Alek defeated him, which was uncommon, not many could do that. Ser Alek was truly skilled in swordmanship.

In the end, Bran defeated Tommen, and offered Tommen his hand, which he gladly took. While the other attendees looked pleased, Joffrey just sneered. _Proud, arrogant fool. It seems he and Lancel have something in common, the two._ The prince then stepped forward, and called out for another round with Robb. While he took a dull sword, the prince just sneered. "We shouldn't play with toys, but with live steel."

"Done!", replied Robb, with a confident look on his face. Rodrik Cassel stepped forward. "You're not ready for live steel, you're still boys."

"Robb may be, but I am a Prince. I am ready." Such an idiotic move by the prince, considering he was younger than Robb.

"I decide if you are ready." Rodrik Cassel stepped forward, but before anything could happen, Ser Alek Lannister intervened. "Ser Rodrik, you are one of the best swordsmen, and you trained Lord Arryn, one of the best swordsmen I ever crossed the blade by. I believe you can vouch for Robb." The old knight just nodded. "I, on the other hand, trained Prince Joffrey, I taught him riding, sparring, archery and hunting. Everything I learned from the King and my uncle Kevan I have passed on him. He is ready." Tobyas was surprised when Joffrey gave Ser Alek a thankful look. The old knight nodded, and allowed them to use live steel.

They drew their swords and began sparring. Joffrey was good, better than Ser Alek expected. But Robb soon had slashed at his hip, and the Prince groaned in pain. Blood gashed out and he could hear Arya cheer for her brother and Sansa gasp at the wound Robb gave him. _She still thinks Joffrey is a noble prince. Oh, how foolish she is. But Marlon soon will tell her, won't he?_ It was known that Marlon and Sansa truly cared for each other, and often Sansa and Arya only behaved because they loved their brother. It was said it was he who held his broth of siblings together. And Tobyas admitted that he was more of a leader than Robb will ever be.

The prince continued the spar, despite the wound. He didn't manage to hit Robb with a blade, and soon found himself on the ground, with Robb's blade at his throat. He yielded and stood up, and at first didn't want to take Robb's hand, but after he saw Ser Alek pointing with his eyes to do that, he grudgingly took Robb's hand and shook it. Maester Luwin soon came to inspect him, but it was just a small cut, in a few days, it'll be gone, the Maester said.

* * *

A few days later, Tobyas was on the perch, watching the group of riders leave Winterfell for a hunt. His falcon was perched on his shoulder, ever vigilant. He had named his falcon Altaïr, after one of the stars on the night sky. His small brother Robert called his Artys, after the founder of House Arryn. The King insisted for him to test out his falcon, but he refused, stating that he's not so keen at the moment of that. He had trained Altaïr and Artys together with Robert in the courtyard of Winterfell a few days ago, to everyone's amazement. It seemed the two falcons were very much like their owners. Altaïr was much more vigilant and quiet, while Artys was more energetic and loud. Robb, Joffrey, Lord Stark and a few others left with the King to hunt, leaving falcon as acting Lord of Winterfell, which clearly didn't make Marlon happy. _He must fear that a deserter would be found and he'd have to execute him himself._

Tobyas left the perch to look around the happenings of Winterfell. Marlon was in the library with Tyrion Lannister, reading, Rickon and Robert went to the Godswood with their pets. He didn't know where Bran was, but he assumed he was climbing, even though his mother told him not to. _Better I find him first, before Lady Stark finds him._ Altaïr seemed to understand his thoughts, and immediately perched himself on the hawking glove. _I swear these falcons and direwolves have something human about them._

So began the search after Bran Stark. He looked up the batterments of Winterfell, but he wasn't there. Tobyas went to the glass gardens, but he wasn't there. _The old keep, that's where he is!_ The old keep was the first part of Winterfell to be built, and it's broken tower was said to be built by Brandon the Builder himself. The legendary founder of House Stark was also credited with building the first stone tower of the Hightowers, Storm's End and the Wall. The Wall seemed like the biggest achievement of his, Benjen Stark told him about it. 700 foot tall and the most impressive thing the world would build. While not as tall as the Hightower, it was certainly not only a tower, but a very long wall, reaching from the Shivering Sea to the Big Gorge, which acted as a natural barrier between the Wall and the Sunset Sea. Legends from the Reach claim he was a son of a certain son of Garth Greenhand, the first High King of the First Men, according to them. The Dustins would say the Barrow King was the first High King of the First Men, while the members of House Royce would say they were the first. _Everyone claimed they were the first._

When he arrived there, he could see Bran climbing up. _Sneaky little boy, climbing everytime._ Tobyas had to recognize that the boy had skill, as he jumped with ease from one battlement to the other. Suddenly, he went to a window, looking for something. Then he stopped, as if he's seen something at the window where he was. He looked as if he wanted to flee, but a hand caught him. _Who is up there?_ He stared there for a while. _Maybe it's just one of the guardsmen, joking with him._ But then the unthinkable happened. Someone pushed Bran and he began to fall. Tobyas rushed immediately to catch him.

He caught the child just in time, but his head hit the ground.

* * *

Marlon, Bran, Maester Luwin, Lady Stark and Tobyas were in Bran's room, where he was put to rest. He lost a bit of blood, but he should be fine. He wasn't in any life-threatening danger. As the maester said this, Lady Catelyn sighed in relief. "But there is the possibility of losing the memory of what happened at the Old Keep, or even the last few days. In any case, he is going to live, and most likely will wake up in a few days, a dozen at most. Tobyas cleared his throat and spoke:

"It was no accident." The group turned around to look at him in horror. The thought that someone wanted him dead horrified them.

"Tobyas, what do you mean?" Lady Catelyn was scared and horrified, and was about to lose her mind, it seemed like.

"I mean that someone pushed Bran from the tower. I saw a hand pushing him." The group gasped, and Marlon looked like he was going to murder someone. Lady Catelyn instead only embraced him. "Thank you for saving my son's life! He could've been dead, or... or crippled!"

"Who would do such things?", asked Catelyn again. The Lord of the Eyrie had already gathered a few alibis. Tyrion Lannister had been with Marlon in the library. Tyrek Lannister and Theon had been practicing archery together. Ser Alek Lannister, Lord Dustin and his son Torrhen were hunting with the King and Joffrey. Not that he suspected the Dustins, but for the record.

I don't know who did this, but I guess there'll be something in the Tower." Without another word, Tobyas left the room, with Marlon behind him, who brought his direwolf, Ice, with him. Tobyas had a sword in his hand, but Marlon just went to the courtyard and took a sparring blade. Not that it would be useful for him. They headed straight to the Tower. They entered and went to the floor where Bran had been pushed off. The scent of sex was in the air, and while Marlon, who was behind him, couldn't recognize it, Tobyas did from his time with Sarra.

"Someone was fucking here!", announced Tobyas, to which Marlon just shook his head. "So my brother was pushed down because he saw the wrong people fucking together?"

Tobyas nodded, it seemed like the only likely information. They searched around the room. A puddle of sex juices only confirmed the fact that sex had happened this room. In rest, nothing was here, and the room looked like no one had entered in a few hundred years. After five minutes, Tobyas wanted to give up the search. Suddenly, he heard Ice, the direwolf of Marlon, whimper at something he found. He looked around, only to find a string of hair, golden. _Whoever did this, it was a Lannister. Tyrek, Tyrion and Alek have alibies, as did Joffrey... Lancel! Lancel was still in Winterfell!_

"Found something?", asked Marlon. Tobyas nodded. "A piece of golden hair. Tyrion, Joffrey, Tyrek, Ser Alek, the Queen and the other royal princes have alibies or no strenght nor reason to kill him. This leaves..."

"Ser Jaime and Lancel.", ended Marlon bitterly.

* * *

 **Edit: Something went wrong during the publication. This chapter has been updated, for everyone!**

 **Yeah, Bran does not become a cripple. So what? Anyway, next hints: snow, south, meeting**

 **Your humble author.**


	8. Marlon II

**You want an explanation for not writing, don't ya? Well, here it is:**

 **I was driving home for my Easter break, when my car got a flat tire at about 23:30. Now, I could've switched the tire easily, were it not for a bolt which couldn't be taken out in order to switch the flat tire with the reserve (English is not my first language so shut up!) We were four men, and we couldn't take it out, honestly! Anyway, we spent a night in Hungary (yes, I am Romanian and live in Austria), waiting for a mechanic to repair our car and get me a new bolt. Then, we spent a day or two here in my hometown, before heading for a skiing trip (yes, it's snowing in March!) in the Carpathians, which meant I did only two things: skiing and sleeping. Anyway, I am back in the civilization, and I can continue this story... Happy with the explanation?**

 **Alright, chapter 7! Snow, south and meetings. Wonder what this means *smirks***

* * *

Marlon heard a knock on his door. He already laid in bed, covered by his furs. _Can't I for once get some sleep?_ The knocking continued and became more frantic. Marlon instantly knew who it was. He stood up and opened the door. There, Rickon and his direwolf Shaggydog stood, visibly scared. "Marlon, I had a bad dream, and I don't want to wake papa." Marlon sighed, took the boy in his arms and placed him on the bed. "Are you scared about Bran?" , asked Marlon. Rickon just nodded and he let a tear drop on his cheek. Marlon wiped it away with his thumb. "Don't be, Maester Luwin is making sure he's going to live. He's just sleeping, he needs rest." Rickon embraced his older brother, hugging him tightly. "Come, wolf pup, we must go to bed." Rickon refused: "No! I want to stay with you!" _Headstrong boy. He has much of the wolf blood, much more than the rest of us._

"And what exactly is this?" Marlon turned around to see Arya, grinning, in the doorstep, Nymeria at her feet. "You forgot to close the door." She stepped inside, content to be with her brothers. "And why exactly are you coming here? Did you have a nightmare, too?" Arya scoffed and grabbed one of Marlon's pillows before smashing it in Marlon's face.

"Arya!"

Arya and Rickon immediately stopped laughing and turned around, only to find Sansa and Lady standing there, Sansa clearly horripilated by Arya's unladylike antics. Arya looked as if going to protest, but Marlon stepped in, before the situation: "Be quiet, or father and mother will hear us!" The two instantly fell silent, and Sansa sat herself on his bed. "I followed Arya, she made more noise than Ser Rodrik!" Arya, not content with being blamed on something, replied: "I followed Rickon! I couldn't sleep, I was thinking of the snake pit called King's Landing."

Sansa was furious with the disrespect Arya showed towards the south. "But there are gallant knights, and the king and Prince Joffrey surely wouldn't li-"

"Sansa, I just wanted to talk with you about Prince Joffrey." Sansa turned to her favourite brother, and she nodded to him. Marlon took a breath. "Sansa, do you trust Toby?"

Sansa nodded again. "He told me about Prince Joffrey, living there for six months every year. He apparently gutted a pregnant cat to see the newborn kitten." Sansa just gave a look of denial. "Prince Joffrey couldn't do that. He's the most cha-"

"Do you think Toby or Marlon would lie to you!" Arya looked angry at her sister, not because of her ways, but of her denial of her brother's words. Sansa shook her head, but still not believing what he told her. "He always is so charming around me!"

"I know, sister, but you're the only one who he treats as such. And he will turn on you, no doubt. Look how he behaved with Robb!"

"Robb deserved it! He was disrespectful to the Prince on that sparring session!" Marlon just shook his head. "I feel responsible for you, sister. I don't want to crush your dreams, Sansa, but Joffrey is two years younger than Robb! Robb is almost a man, while the prince is still just a boy!"

"Thank you for defending me, but I can do that myself." The group on the bed turned around to see Robb and his direwolf, who he named Grey Wind, due to him being the fastest of the direwolves. "Robb, you're here!". Marlon turned around to ruffle the hair of Rickon, who giggled in response. Robb took a chair and sat himself.

"I want you two to not fight in King's Landing!", announced Marlon at the two sisters. Sansa and Arya were going to go to the Capitol, and he knew they and their father was in danger there. Or at least he sensed dread coming from that city. "We have many enemies there, who only want to hurt us. And father will with no doubt be busy. That's why you two must act like a pack, protecting one another." Arya and Sansa nodded. "I'd kill anyone who dares attack me or Sansa! I am going to drive a sword through anyone who hurts her." Robb looked at Arya with gratefulness, while Sansa just in disbelief. The Stark children knew that Marlon had trained Arya in the art of swordsmanship at her request, and she knew how to wield a blade pretty well.

"Well, I guess Needle will help you in this situation."

Jon entered the room, Ghost at his feet, and leaned against a wall. Marlon smirked. "How long were you in the door?"

"Enough time." Oh, Jon could be funny, but usually he was somber. Much like their father.

"What is this 'Needle'", asked Rickon curiously. Arya and Jon looked at each other. "It's a sword Mikken made for me at Jon's request. A gift."

Sansa looked as if she was going to make a shocked expression, but quickly regained her composture and kept quiet. _She did this for me, she knows that I love them both!_

"Jon, I must speak with you about the Night's Watch.", began Marlon. Jon's smile fell. "The Night's Watch is not what you think, brother. Nowadays it's just rapers and murderers and thieves. Uncle told me himself!"

Jon's face was first filled with disbelief, then with sadness and then with anger. He believed Marlon, it seemed like, but he seemed troubled. He was surely confused, his thoughts and stories about the Night's Watch shattered. Marlon didn't want to know if this was how Sansa would be when her dreams are shattered.

"Why didn't Uncle Benjen or father tell ME?" He was quite mad that he wasn't told about the dishonour of the Night's Watch. "Why?"

"Because they didn't want to hurt you, brother. And because you didn't let them." Marlon paused. "Am I your brother, now and always?"

Jon looked surprised. "Now and always."

"Then stay at Winterfell, protect our family. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."

The group silently nodded. Jon looked conflicted, as if a part of him wanted to go to the Wall, the other wanted to stay. "Your mother would only spite me more. I can't do this anymore!" Marlon looked at him in anger. "I'll take care of her, I promise. Do you trust me?"

Jon nodded. "Then please stay. Rickon needs you, Bran needs you, Robb needs you, and I need you." Jon nodded once again, and Marlon stood up to embrace his brother.

"Where are mama and papa?" Oh, sweet Rickon loved family reunions. Marlon ruffled his hair and kissed him on the forehead for being such a family person, this little, wild wolf pup.

"They are... busy.", answered Robb with a grin on his face. Marlon knew exactly what it meant. _They must fuck again, don't they?_ Jon, Arya and Marlon smirked at the suggestion, while Sansa blushed a bit and Rickon was just confused.

"Well, we must go to bed. Tomorrow will be a long day." And with that, Marlon basically threw out everyone of his room. He laid himself in bed once again and covered himself in furs. He thought of how he convinced his father to leave Ice, the ancestral Valyrian steel sword of House Stark in Winterfell, due to him thinking that King's Landing is too dangerous. His father always listened to his advice, which made him grateful for what father he had.

* * *

Marlon looked at his father, a frown on his face. He was going to a rat's nest, and his honour and friendship with the king blinded him from the obvious threats there. Honour was important to Marlon, he was a Stark after all, but King's Landing was a place he'd rather not let his father go to. He didn't trust the Lannisters who tried to kill his little brother, and the mysterious circumstances under which Jon Arryn died made Marlon uncomfortable about the fates of the Hands.

He then saw Jon talking with Uncle Benjen. "I am sorry you decided otherwise. But maybe it is for the best. We'll speak about the Night's Watch when I return. Or you ask Marlon to write a letter for you."

"Uncle, I am perfectly capable of writing a le-"

"No, you're not." Jon turned around to see Marlon, a smug grin on his face. Jon's face fell in a frown. His dark, cloudy eyes shielded every emotion, but his expressions made it clear he was not happy. He just turned around and hugged Uncle Benjen.

"I'm going to miss you, Uncle"

"Me too. Keep Robb and Marlon from destroying the peace at Winterfell, will you?"

Jon just nodded, and Benjen mounted his horse, to join the riders. The Dustin party left two days ago for Barrowton, and Lord Medger Cerwyn visited Winterfell for only one night. After all, Castle Cerwyn is only two hours riding from here. There were now only Stark, Baratheon and Lannister riders, in gold, black, grey, white and crimson. The mix of colours was not a pleasant one. The Stark grey and white was overshadowed by the crimson, gold and black, while a battle of colours between crimson and black was happening over the ownership of the gold.

"Marlon, come on. We must ride with father and the King until the crossroad!" Marlon snapped out of his thoughts, saddled and mounted his horse and raced Jon to the King's party, who already left Winterfell. The two made their way to their father who was riding in the front. Marlon heard some Lannister soldiers cursing the Stark boys in all manners from 'Northern savages' to 'fucking Starks', but he didn't care. When they reached their father, they noticed they also reached the Kingsroad.

"I guess this is goodbye for now, Marlon, Jon." Marlon nodded. He was sad, conflicted, not happy that his father left, despite every warning he and Tobyas had given. The Young Falcon turned around, greeting his friends.

"So this is goodbye for pretty much forever, right?" Oh Jon, how foolish could he sometimes be.

"No. I will send Robin here due in a few months. And who knows, maybe our paths will cross again. Farewell!" And with that, Tobyas rode off, not wanting to make it more emotional.

"Who is my mother? Is she alive? Does she know that I am here?" Marlon looked to his brother. He never had put this question, and Lord Stark was certainly off guard, but Marlon knew this day would once come. His father looked a bit worried, before regaining composture.

"Next time we will meet, I'll tell you. I promise, you hear me?" Jon nodded, apparently not happy. Marlon sent a disapproving look to his father, and his father looked in guilt to his bastard son. _He is ashamed,_ Marlon thought. "One thing I will say though." Jon looked at him with a glimmer of hope, and happiness.

"She is Dornish."

* * *

Marlon found himself on a river bank, the river bloodied by something. He saw a fortress in the distance, two towers, between them a bridge. _I am at the Twins,_ thought Marlon. He remembered being there on the way to his grandfather Hoster Tully's set down on the Trident three years ago. It was the first and only time he and his siblings left home. Only Jon stayed at Winterfell, to not offend the riverlords.

He realized that he was dreaming, because he was wearing Northern battle armour, and a crown of iron and bronze on his head. He looked destroyed, ravaged by something. Then he realized there was another person there.

A warrior, lean, yet not by any means weak. What shocked him most is that it was a woman. She was a dark youth, with dark, short hair, and black eyes. On her boiled leather was the Kraken's sigil. _A Greyjoy?_ Yes, the woman resembled Theon quite a bit. Could this be a cousin of his?

A thousand questions spurred through Marlon's head. _Why am I at the Twins? Why is the river bloody? Why am I wearing battle armour? Why do I wear a crown? Why am I so depressed? And who is this Greyjoy?_

Then, the unexpected happened. After a few minutes of a discussion Marlon couldn't make out, the Greyjoy woman was taken by him in his arms and they shared a kiss there, before taking off their clothes and having passionate sex on the bloody river bank.

The image shifted. He was in the Winterfell crypts, a torch in his hands. He wandered through the halls, counting the statues of the former Lords of Winterfell. Benjen, Rickon, Cregan, Brandon, Beron, Donnor, Willam, Edwyle, Rickard. He froze when he noticed the statues of Lyanna and Brandon, his father's brother and sister are missing. In their stead were two others. One was a stern man, with dour eyes. The second was a light, yet fierce man, and had a crown like the one Marlon had previously. The inscriptions read 'Eddard Stark, the Quiet Wolf' and 'Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, King in the North'

The image shifted again. He was in the Godswood, running. Yet he could not see himself. He saw only Grey Wind, Shaggydog, Ghost and the unnamed direwolf of Bran. He still hadn't found a name for him yet. Marlon noticed that he was as fast as the direwolves. For a moment, he thought he imagined the voices of Bran, Rickon, Jon and Robb come from their respective direwolves. Then they began to run to outside of the godswood. The Library Tower was burning. They slipped through an opening and headed to Bran's room. The door was open, and they heard voices. He entered, and he saw a man with a dagger in his hand, attacking his mother, but before he could do anything, Grey Wind jumped on his back and snapped his neck. The man fell to the ground. Shaggydog and Ghost left the room at the moment Lady Catelyn fainted. Grey Wind stood in front of her, protectively.

Suddenly, Bran's direwolf jumped on his bed and Bran woke up, looking straight into the direwolf's eyes.

"Summer, I'll call you Summer"

Marlon woke up, his head aching a bit. His back felt sore, and he didn't want to stand up, if it weren't for the frantic knock at his door. Marlon quickly opened the door, it was Maester Luwin, who was panting, probably because he ran up here.

"My lord, there was a fire in the Library Tower... your mother was attacked by an assassin... and Bran is awake!"

* * *

 **Yeah, I know the first bit is not that good, I wrote that bit in a bit of hurry before the Easter break, as I frantically tried to get something done. Anyway, I am going to write more often. Cheers!**

 **Next hints: Woods, archer, reach**


	9. Ylroy I

**Woods, archers and a reach for everybody. This is the first chapter outside of the North, so enjoy! By the way, this subplot is serving to introduce some other characters. Again to remind, I have several types of OCs:**

 **a). The 20 who were brought to Westeros, all main characters (ex. Marlon Stark)**

 **b). The ones who were created by the butterfly effect (ex. Torrhen Dustin)**

 **c.) Persons who were known to exist or can be assumed to exist and have been given a name and some traits to them (ex. Maester Joris)**

 **d.) Members of Houses who have only a few or none living known members, yet they are not reported as extinct, who will be added due to continuity.**

 **Besides that, some people have survived due to the butterfly effect, such as Domeric Bolton. Alright, understood? Good, let's start!**

* * *

"Come on, you can do that better! You fight like an Oldtown whore!"

Ylroy sighed as the fat boy stood up from the dirt. Ser Hyle Hunt was certainly a skilled master-at-arms, and he respected the man with his life, but he hated how he treated Samwell. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't as strong as him and Dickon. Randyll Tarly tried everything to make his son a warrior, from bathing him in bull blood from sending him to the Arbor with Paxter Redwyne, only to return due to him being bullied by the Redwyne twins. And the Lord of Horn Hill was certainly not one to give up that easily. He was the person who gave Robert Baratheon, the Usurper and Fat King, his only defeat, but who took the credit for it? Oh, none other but the Fat Flower of Highgarden himself.

"At your age, Garlan fought like the Warrior himself! And you? You are too craven to even see blood of chickens!" Now, Ylroy was raging. He looked at Ser Hyle Hunt in disdain. _How dare he insult him,_ Ylroy thought. More than the anger to the fact that Ser Hyle mocked his brother was the anger towards his father who wouldn't give up on his brother becoming a warrior. His brother was not strong, but he was sharp of mind. He wanted to go to Oldtown and become a Maester. Perhaps this suited him, but as long as he was a craven, nothing suited him, Ylroy knew that.

Samwell began to cry out in pain as Ser Hyle trained him with Dickon, who was much more skilled than Ylroy with a sword, although not by far. Ylroy was better as an archer, and his father approved of that. He was a Tarly after all, the bowman was their sigil. Perhaps Sam is better with a bow, or a crossbow even. Ylroy sighed before wishing his brothers luck in the training and heading to the main hall of Horn Hill, the seat of his house. The castle was relatively small, but it was enough. It was on a small hill in a wooded forest on the foothills of the Red Mountains of Dorne. On the road towards the main gate was a pond where he, his brothers and his sisters swam in the hot summer. The forest were teeming with game, the richest in the entire Seven Kingdoms, for sure.

As he entered, he saw his father discuss something with a man from the smallfolk. Elroy patiently waited for him to end the conversation with his father. Something about Dornish bandits, led by a man with silver hair in purple colours. He knew Dornishmen was only trouble. Every marcher child of ten namedays could tell you the Dornish should have never been let into the Seven Kingdoms that easily. And the Martells were the least of their worries. Every Reacher House had their Dornish rival. The Oakhearts had the Daynes, the Tyrells had the Martells, the Peakes had the Fowlers. _And our rivals are the fucking Blackmonts._

When the man finished and left, Ylroy approached his father. "What was that about Dornish bandits, father?" Lord Tarly sighed, he clearly was not happy. "The Darkstar is leading bandits in our lands. Apparently the Peakes are already attacking them and the Roxtons should soon do the same." Ylroy shuddered. He had met the Darkstar once, when he visited the Ring with his father once. He was there, apparently crossing the border while hunting with Perros Blackmont, the son of Lady Larra Blackmont. As soon as he saw the man, Ylroy knew he was at least as mad as Mad King Aerys, and that said something.

"Means we're attacking the man, then. "

"Aye, tell Dickon and Sam. They need to learn how to fight properly."

Ylroy sighed a bit, and his father clearly noted that, but before he could answer with his 'Tarlys are warriors, not grey rats', Ylroy quickly said: "Sam is not a skilled swordsman, that is clear as Mad King Aerys was mad. He may yet be a bowman or be able to at least wield a crossbow."

His father lit up at the proposal, apparently he never thought about that. "Try the bow first before giving him the crossbow." Randyll Tarly approached his son and kissed him on the forehead. "You have your mothers wisdom, son. You'll make a fine lord. One day you're going to seat on the dais and be the one leading our house. And remember!" Lord Tarly put his right hand before his heart.

"First in battle!"

"First in battle!"

It wasn't easy for Ylroy to deal with everything. He was after all the firstborn of Lord Tarly and the responsibility of the safety of the Marches was his task, his thing. He'll make his father proud.

"I need you to write to Highgarden to write that the Dornishmen are loose. Anything else is up to you, son"

And so he went to his father's solar, which was turning into his solar. His father began using it less and less, and the task of sending letters fell upon his heir, who was Ylroy. He should learn the responsibility of being the leader of the Marcher lords, he had said. Elroy had scoffed at that, but he did his duty.

* * *

Ylroy finally finished writing the letters. He had written to the Tyrells and Hightowers, announcing them of the threat the Dornish raiders passed and asking for any knights to defeat the Darkstar. He had also written to the Peakes, informing them that they identified the leader of the bandits and declaring their help. He had written to the Roxtons and the green-apple Fossoways, asking for help. And he wrote letters to Sunspear and Starfall, asking for information on what is happening. He knew Ser Gerold was not a Dayne of Starfall, but came from a cadet branch which lived near Blackmont, but still, he had the feeling that if he sent a raven there, the Blackmonts would join their vassal in their attack of the Marches.

Sighing, he sealed the last letter, the one towards the Dornish Paramount, with the seal ring of his father, in red wax. He stood up, left the chambers and headed to the rookery of Horn Hill. It was located near his the solar, so his father didn't have to walk a lot. Maester Joris was reading a book, Ylroy didn't bother which.

"Maester Joris, sorry for disturbing you. We have had a problem, Ser Gerold Dayne and some other men have been raiding the Marches, starting with the lands around Starpike, but they attacked one of the villages under us today. I have written a few letters, I need them sent."

The maester smiled. He had more than fourty namedays, but he still looked kind and handsome. He was of House Waxley, Valemen, by origin, and thus he made the best scented candles Ylroy had ever seen or smelled, often scented in various flavours. The maester who brought the Tarly heir into the world has always seen him as the son he never had and always praised him and his abilities to manage a household, villages, taxes and his knowledge of the other noble houses.

"I will take care of them. Where should I send these?"

"I have written the name of the houses on the envelope, but I need them sent to Highgarden, the Hightower, Starpike, the Ring, New Barrel, Sunspear and Starfall."

"This is more serious than I imagined. Should I be concerned?"

Ylroy forced a smile. "No, me and my brothers can take care of this issue."

The maester nodded and Ylroy left the chamber. No doubt his family was dining, and he was too late. But he had done his duty and that was the important part of it. He headed to the great hall, and entered. Dickon and Samwell were joking, they were getting along quite well, while Talla, Selyse and Olenna were talking about something. His father and his mother, Melessa Florent, were sitting together and Ylroy was surprised to see kindness and lust in his eyes. _Seven Hells, this night is going to be loud,_ said Elroy to himself.

"Brother, you're late." That was Dickon, who was in a very good mood. "Where have you been?"

"Writing letters." His face became very serious. "The Darkstar is raiding the Marches, in some days we'll leave to attack."

Everyone's smile fell at the mention of the attack. Samwell looked afraid, while Dickon just shook his head. Luckily, Olenna continued the discussion with her sisters, which broke the silence and the air of dread in the hall.

"Samwell!" Everyone turned around to look at Randyll Tarly. Samwell looked like he wanted to dissapear in that right moment. "I have spoken with Ser Hyle and with Ylroy. We have decided to abandon your swordsmanship training, we have deemed you incapable. However, you shall start training with the bow, and if unable, with the crossbow. Am I understood"

Samwell nodded. While Ylroy knew he hated violence, he was willing to try a bit, at least for his brothers. He knew they cared for him. "Good, now if you'll excuse us..."

Randyll and Melessa stood up, and Elroy's mother had a seducing smirk on her lips. Ylroy was cursing their lust. His father, while advanced in age, still had sometimes the lust of a young man like Ylroy himself. Dickon couldn't help but chuckle at his father's remarks and soon, they were completely out of hearing range. Ylroy excused himself and it was his task to put his siblings to bed. He put Dickon, Olenna and Selyse to bed, they were not 18 after all. Talla and Samwell were the only ones remaining in the hall, and discussed something as Ylroy entered. The servants were already cleaning up.

"Don't worry Sam, you know Ylroy is patient." Samwell smiled at the kind words that his sisters gave his elder brother. "He will train you with patience and you'll be fine."

As Samwell wanted to reply something, Ylroy intervened: "I know how much you want to become a maester, but be honest with me. How much can you help the Citadel if you cannot see even blood? You can study economics and stuff, alright. But how much will it help you, I ask you? You want to be a maester for a noble house, ain't I right?" Samwell nodded. "You need to be able to see blood, then. When the woman is birthing, how much will it help her that you faint?"

Samwell looked down to his feet. Ylroy looked at him. "Brother, I don't want to hurt you, but it's the truth. Now get some sleep, I won't deal with Sleepy Sam while training you in archery, am I understood?

Samwell and Talla smirked.

* * *

"Don't think too much, relax!"

It was early morning, even before breaking the fast, and Ylroy had woken his brother early to train him. He didn't even had time to wash his face, who had the same brown hair and eyes as Ylroy had. Samwell was quite strong, even if plump and managed to draw the bow again and shot. The arrow hit the target on the left arm, not yet on the bullseye, but still a good progress. _Only one hour, and he already manages to HIT the target. A normal boy archer needs less then 10 minutes._

"Very well, Sam!" Both boys turned around to see a very content Randyll Tarly. "At least you can use the bow, boy. We'll just need to get down that fat of yours and you'll look like a true Tarly!" Lord Tarly was apparently very proud and actually having a very good disposition, which was rare. _Must've been last night. I barely could sleep due to them,_ Ylroy thought. Then, without a warning, Samwell picked up an arrow, drew the bow and shot. To everyone's surprise, he hit the bullseye. "That is my boy!"

Ylroy was impressed. Samwell hit like he knew to draw a bow. Sure, he was tougher, due to him and Dickon training him and insisting that he should not give up just yet. Samwell took another arrow and shot. He didn't miss, but he didn't hit the bullseye, but close enough for Randyll to feel proud of his son. Ylroy could see that he was happy, that his son was learning. But before too long, the Lord of Horn Hill called his sons to the hall, to break their fast.

"At last, I don't know how much longer I would've lasted." Ylroy smirked and turned to the keep, to break his fast. He was starving, after all.

* * *

 **So, how do you like the Tarly subplot, hunting the Darkstar accross the Marches?**

 **Anyway, as I have no idea if I should write next about the royal party in the Riverlands (Alek II) or start one of the other substories. Anyway, write in the reviews what you want! Deadline is Sunday, 03.03. at 00:00 Greenwich Standard Time (London time).**


	10. Alester I

The island of Dragonstone finally came in sight. It had been a long journey from Storm's End, and it had been with many stops. They stopped first at Evenfall Hall on the Sapphire Isle, then at Stonedance, before finally setting sail for Dragonstone. The island stood there, grim and mysterious, with the volcano looming over the Valyrian fortress which gave name to the island. The Targaryens fled here 400 years ago, and now, they are gone. The dragon-shaped towers looked as if they could spit dragonfire at anyone approaching without a reason. And there, there was the small town nearby. The people of the island had classical Valyrian features, with silver hair and purple eyes, and some still spoke Valyrian after all these years.

 _Valyria will never leave this place. It is too rooted here,_ he thought. After all these years growing up here, Alester still felt like coming to a foreign land. Towers in form of dragons, statues to Valyrian gods, this place was foreign in all but location. Chuckling, he turned around to find his travelling friends. He went to the cabin of his companions. Devan Seaworth and Edric Storm, his two squires, playing cyvasse. He learned to play the game when he had been visiting the Water Gardens in a diplomatic mission to mend relations between the crown and House Martell. After the two weeks, not even Lord Doran could beat him at it.

"Devan, Edric! Quit playing, Dragonstone is in sight. We should arrive soon at the docks, pack up!" The two mumbled a few words, and then began packing up their trunk. The two were quite a mess when it came to being orderly. Alester chuckled and left for his chamber. He had a few books lying around. He had to entertain himself on this journey after all. He put his night clothes, the books and other items in the wooden trunk bearing the Baratheon stag.

Alester remembered something. He took off the glove on his right hand. His wrist was grey and from the wrist, grey scales went up his palm, forming the form of antlers. Alester remembered the night he and Shireen fought over a toy; he tore it apart in envy in an act of jealousy. Both got greyscale on their right hands and on both, it formed antlers. A healer managed to stop it on both siblings, and ever since, he and Shireen never took off their gloves from their right hand in public. The septon on Dragonstone said it was a sign of the Seven, but he wasn't able to say how. Ever since that day, his mother despised him. Alester began tearing.

"Alester, you forgot the cyvasse game in our cabin!"

* * *

The courtyard was full of the servants of Dragonstone, along with Lord Stannis Baratheon, his wife Selyse and their daughter, Shireen. Alester smiled and approached his father, who had kind eyes, yet he didn't smile. He never did. His mother looked disgusted and loathing at her son, while Shireen smiled, happy to see her brother again. The heir to Dragonstone looked around, and saw Maester Cressen, his tutor and father figure in his father's presence in King's Landing, and another woman, dressed in red, which looked foreign, who studied him. Alester didn't like her gaze, so he turned to his father.

"Father, it is splendid to see you again!" Stannis Baratheon gave the ghost of a smile to his son. "The same could be said to you, Alester. It's been far too long!"

He pulled his father into an embrace, which he gladly accepted. Alester knew that his father was proud of him, and while he didn't like that he spent time in the Stormlands and the Reach, being regent to his uncle Renly, he knew he was smarter than to copy his uncle's antics.

Alester turned to Selyse: "Mother!" His mother scoffed and publicly showed disdain towards her only son. _Even when I haven't seen her in years, I am hated. What kind of mother do I have,_ he thought. Stannis gave a glare to his wife, while Alester turned to his sister, which jumped into his arms. Alester kissed her forehead and put her on the ground, a toothy smile on his lips. Both looked very similar, with black hair and blue eyes, but Alester lacked the Florent ears his sister had. His sister had seen the Baratheon seat of Storm's End a few months ago, when she and father wanted to see his leadership skills. She was pretty enough, though not a flaming beauty.

"Sister, it's been not too long." She smiled at him and embraced him harder. "I need to tell you how big High Tide is. It is so beautiful!" He ruffled her hair a bit and whispered in her ear: "Tell me inside, I have to do some things, then you can tell me how it was at the Velaryons. She nodded and let him go.

Alester then greeted Maester Cressen and his great-uncle, Axell Florent, the castellan of Dragonstone. Axell wasn't dear to Alester, but he was cordial. Then, he turned around and showed Devan and Edric to come forward. They bowed before Stannis.

"Father, I'd like to present you my squires. Devan Seaworth and my cousin, Edric Storm." Gasps were heard from the crowd, and his mother looked offended. "How dare you bring the result of the dishonouring of our wedding bed!" The damage was done, and Alester felt the Baratheon fury rising.

"Mother, what are the words of House Baratheon?" Before she could answer, he cut her off. "Ours is the fury. And what do you think I feel when my mother, my own mother, loathes me and hates me on the day I see her again for the first time in three years! Joy?"

He then felt a pain on his left cheek.

* * *

 _My mother sees me and Shireen as failures. When I become Lord of Dragonstone, I'll send her back to Brightwater Keep. I hope Uncle Alester can support her, because I won't have her around._ Alester sat on his bed, pondering the events in the courtyard. He was still in shock about what happened a few hours ago. He had visited Shireen earlier, and promised to take her with him to Storm's End, once he returned there. She apparently also suffered under her mother, and it was time she could experience other places in the world. She had seen Storm's End and King's Landing, as well as High Tide, the seat of House Velaryon. She was most impressed by the Velaryons; now the most powerful Crownlander house behind the Baratheon branches of Dragonstone and King's Landing. Not even House Rosby was as powerful, and they had major influence on the food supplies of the capitol.

The heir to Dragonstone heard the door open, and he saw a woman in red, with a ruby necklace, and hair as red as her dress. She closed the door, then bowed before him.

"My lord, I am Lady Melisandre, priestess of the one true god, the Lord of Light." Alester studied the woman. He had heard of the Lord of Light, R'hllor as his true name was, during his travels in the Reach and Dorne. A temple was in Planky Town, as well as in Oldtown. Alester stood up, and kissed the hand of the priestess. It was warmer than any other.

The priestess chuckled at the antics and sat herself on a chair at his desk. "I have heard of you, Lord Alester. You are the only son and heir to Stannis Baratheon. Your mother told me about you."

Alester felt his jaw tightening, and he made his left hand a fist, but before he could say something, she cut in: "I came to talk with you about the only true god."

"Why are you here on Dragonstone, Lady Melisandre? And where are you from?"

"Asshai, my lord. And I am here on the behalf of your father."

Alester pondered her words. "Have you come to convert us to your god? I have heard of many gods, from the old gods of Valyria, to the Seven, to the Old Gods of the North, and the many gods of the free cities. Why should your god be the real one?"

"You worship idols, false gods that do not exist. Your mother and uncle have already seen the value of the Lord of Light. And your father is growing closer every day now."

Alester shook his head, wondering what sorcery made his father renounce his nerve to a deity, a foreign one nonetheless. _This is utter madness. I hope Davos can talk some sense into father._ He stood up and looked into the eyes of the priestess, and he only saw to pits of fire.

"You really expect Westeros to just abandon its gods, traditions and legends for a fire god of Asshai. Lady Melisandre, you're wrong in expecting Westeros to turn on its gods, be it the Seven, the Old Gods or the Drowned One."

"This fire god of Asshai has taken the Free Cities by storm, why should-"

This was the breaking point for the heir to Dragonstone. "Remind me, how many of the Free Cities have a majority in the Lord of Light. Braavos is open to all gods, so is Lorath. Trios, the Weeping Lady and Mother Rhoyne are still the main gods of Tyrosh, Lys and Myr. Your fire god has no hold in Qohor and Norvos, if I remember correctly. And while Pentos and Volantis have taken the Lord of Light more openly, it is not the only religion in the cities. If I remember correctly, Old Volantis still worships the gods of Old Valyria."

The priestess tried to find words, her confident look broken into a gaze of disbelief. Alester stepped away from the priestess and looked into her eyes once again.

"You may have a hold on my father, but should you ever try to convert me and my sister again, I will personally banish you from Dragonstone. Should you return to Westeros, I will see that your head will be sent to Volantis, this will show that the Red God is not welcome in Westeros."

* * *

Steps filled the corridors of the Valyrian fortress. The dark stone made the sound echo around the castle. He finally reached the war room, where he saw his father ponder. Alester had searched him in his room and his solar, but he hadn't been able to find him. He entered the room, and looked upon the table, which showed Westeros in its glory.

"Father, I must talk with you."

Stannis Baratheon turned around and let the ghost of a smile creep upon his lips. It was known that he never truly smiled, but his eyes always looked proud when looking upon his son and daughter. He came to Alester and hugged him. It was clear that he had missed his son, once a small boy, now regent of Storm's End.

"What is on your mind?"

"What is happening? Why is this red priestess here? Why are you not in the capitol with Shireen?"

His father frowned and sat himself on a chair. Alester did the same.

"Jon Arryn has found out that the children of the Queen are her bastards with the Kingslayer. The Hand and I have investigated, but before he could say something to Robert, he died. I believe the Lannisters poisoned him."

Alester let a small gasp escape his lips, his eyes wide open. _This is why Joffrey is as mad as the Mad King. And why the royal children have no Baratheon traits._ Alester regained his posture.

"Father, may I recommend something?" His father nodded. "Don't let Uncle Robert kill the children. He already has a bloody reputation due to Rhaenys and Aegon."

His father shook his head. "They are bastards of incest. I cannot decide their fate."

"You can! Tommen and Myrcella are not like their elder brother! Let them live! Myrcella loves Shireen, let her live!"

Stannis Baratheon sighed. "Alright, the younger will live. They have no fault, you are right. But I cannot guarantee for Joffrey. I must prepare as new heir to the Iron Throne to take it over."

Alester nodded. All his life, he had been known as the heir to Dragonstone, and had been the heir apparent to Storm's End as well. His uncle, who was Lord of Storm's End, adored him as a brother, and he left him in charge of the Stormlands, when he became 16. Now he is the heir to the Iron Throne after his father.

"We must tread carefully. In the game of thrones, you win or you die."

* * *

 **Alright, Alester Baratheon has been introduced! While I won't introduce more characters in the next chapters, I leave you with this hint: lion knight and his three squires. Alright, see ya**


	11. Alek II

**So, the Lion Knight and his three squires! Yeah, Alek II, guys, Alek II.**

* * *

"There you are!" Alek was looking at the youngest Stark girl. Suddenly, her direwolf, Nymeria, stepped forward and bared it's teeth growling. Arya called her direwolf back and told her not to attack the Lion Knight, as Alek was known. Hearing from Marlon Stark from his time inside Winterfell's library, he knew that the girl wanted to fight like a man. So the Lion Knight showed her how to fight, alongside her butcherboy friend, Mycah. Everytime they made camp, he would go with them somewhere isolated and show them the way of the sword. Sometimes it was a forest grove, other times on fields far, far away. Lord Eddard didn't seem to know what he did, but if he did, he doesn't seem to mind. She had some knowledge, but it was raw, yet still promising. The boy had it in him to become a hedge knight.

"Are you alright, Arya? Marlon would kill me if you are hurt." Arya let out a small giggle. "No, I am not. But Joffrey is, and Nymeria will be killed because of it." The expression of the youngest Stark girl turned from somewhat happy to an angry frown. Alek knew she hated Joffrey, and he couldn't say anything against it. Despite his attempts to make Joffrey a better person, his mother would always spoil him more.

He took Arya in her arms and let her cry her tears out. The direwolf was whimpering as well, seemingly crying with her mistress. _A poor sight, which Cersei would enjoy. Ah, my lovely cousin._

Alek broke the embrace and kneeled down, to look Arya in the eyes. "Listen to me. Nymeria won't die, I won't let my sweet cousin, the Queen, take her from you. She must hide until nightfall, when I will return to this exact same spot to pick her up." Arya looked confused.

"I will make your father send her to the North. It's the only way you can keep her." Arya's face turned into an angry frown once more.

"That stupid bitch of a queen! I swear by the Old Go-"

"Arya, you're not helping. Now, if I know my cousin correctly, she'll try to kill Lady instead." Arya's face turned into shock and disbelief.

"Why? Lady wasn't there, it's not her fault!"

Alek gave her a reassuring smile. "She doesn't care, she is a fierce mother, which is her only redeeming quality. She thinks herself a Tywin Lannister, but she is nothing more than a Loreon the Lackwit."

"Who was this Loreon the Lackwit?" _She doesn't know the Kings of the Rock_ , Alek thought. "Loreon IV was a King of the Rock, long before the Targaryens ruled in Westeros. He was cruel and stupid, but thought of himself as smart, just like my cousin."

Arya began to laugh, and Alek could not stop himself. The Lion Knight may be the son of the Tygett Lannister, the Bitter Lion, but he had a laugh like Gerion, his uncle. The Lion Knight remembered his uncles: Gerion, with his laughs, who is lost, somewhere in Valyria. Kevan, serious, but kind, and he could smile well enough. And Tywin. The one uncle he hated.

Coming back to reality, he looked at Arya. "Alright, I will bring you back to camp. Tell Nymeria to be here tonight when the moon is almost at it's highest point." The sun was already almost setting, so it would not take much time.

Arya told Nymeria to meet the Lion Knight here and go hide while it's still day. The direwolf seemed to nod and left right away. Then Alek and Arya made their way back to Castle Darry. The sun began to set behind the two.

* * *

Arya immediately ran up to her father, as he brought her into the Stark tent. The Lord of Winterfell showed a face of relief as Arya jumped into his arms. He gave Alek a kind look. He thought in a good way about Alek, it seemed. He helped the investigations following Brandon's fall, and Lord Stark may know he was training Arya in the way of the sword. It was whispered by the Stark men that Arya was Lyanna reborn.

Lord Stark let her daughter down and ordered the handmaidens to draw her a bath. They immediately left with Arya. Eddard turned to the Lion Knight, a kind expression on his face. "Thank you for bringing my daughter to me first. I almost thought your family ties would oblige you to bring her to the Queen." Alek scoffed at that.

"Forgive my rude words, Lord Stark, but my bitch of a cousin does not control me, nor hold my compassion. She was always cruel in her way, and she won't have my respect. Not all Lannisters are evil, my Lord."

Lord Eddard couldn't help but smile. "That's relieving to hear. I hear your uncle Kevan isn't a bad person, either."

"No, he is not. But honour compells him to act on my lovely uncle Tywin's command."

The two stood in silence, not knowing what to say anymore. Alek was about to ask to leave, when Lord Stark began to speak:

"They call you the Lion Knight, don't they? Why?"

"A long story, my Lord. One we can share once, but right now, there are more pressing matters to attend, I am afraid." He turned around to leave, but before he did, he looked back:

"In King's Landing, don't ever trust my cousin, and don't trust anyone in the Small Council except for maybe Lord Stannis. Lord Stannis was the man Lord Arryn confided into. He's a stern, yet just man. And he knows the game."

"What game?". But before Alek could response, he was already outside the tent. _I have to report to my lovely cousin now, don't I?_

* * *

"How could you not help your family and bring that Stark bitch to me like I told you to !?"

Cersei was seething and angry, with a look of mania in her eyes, that would make most men flinch. But Alek wasn't most men. He knew his cousin, and he didn't need her to tell him what to do.

"I will remind you that I take commands from no one but the King himself, dear cousin. Besides, what makes you think I would ever listen to you?"

Cersei was now furious and looked like she almost threw her goblet of wine at him.

"You are a Lannister, and you take on with those Northern savages instead of helping our family!"

"Our family, is it now? I thought you wanted me dead, on a spike, for trying to make Joffrey a better person, a better prince, when you were making him into a little brat!"

"You weaken him! He needs to be strong, and you weaken him with your curtesies and 'how a king should behave'!"

"Weaken, Cersei? He would've never been able to wield a sword if not for me! I am not weakening him, cousin, you are!"

"You side with that Stark bitch, yet you forget that her wolf almost tore his arm off!"

Alek rolled his eyes. "Please, it was just a bite. If the wolf wanted to tear the arm off, it would've. Spare me the actory!" _Make her send me away, because I can no longer stand her and I_ _'_ _m half of a mind to kill her where she stands._

Cersei looked angrily at her cousin, then gazed away. "Get out, Ser Alek Lannister. And be happy that your family name spares you from my wrath."

Alek turned around to leave, but before he left, he said: "Good. I intend to see the day you will choke on your own arrogance."

* * *

It was as the Lion Knight predicted. Cersei ordered Arya to be punished, and in the absence of Nymeria ordered an execution by proxy of Lady. The two Stark girls began to act out, the older one crying for her beloved direwolf, the other fighting as always. _She's only feigning it though. She would be a good mummer,_ Alek thought. _Or player._

Lord Stark had stormed off, ordering his daughters to be carried to their tents. When he looked at Cersei, she had a confident, crooked smile on her lips. _Your arrogance will kill you one day._

The Lion Knight went to follow Lord Stark to the direwolf's pen. There, he had unsheated Ice already. Alek had to act quickly.

"I'm sorry to disturb the execution of this proud beast, but I have already spoken with your daughter about this."

The Lord of Winterfell looked up, confused by his words. "What did you talk about, Ser Alek."

"I had the vague idea that Cersei would try to kill Nymeria, or in her place Lady. She's a vengeful woman, and she doesn't like being crossed."

The Lord of Winterfell seemed to calm a bit down, yet still had an inquiring look on his face. "What do you plan to do?"

Ser Alek chuckled. "Nymeria has been ordered to wait for me where I found Arya. You need to fake the death of this direwolf, Lord Stark."

Eddard looked at me, an expression of shock upon his face. He seemed to ponder the idea for a mere few seconds, before ultimately shaking his head. He argued that the Queen would want to see proof of the death of the direwolf, and not killing it would complicate matters further. "Nymeria must be sent back to Winterfell, though. We must be careful."

 _Really, Lord Stark? I expected better from you,_ the Lion Knight thought. "My lord, I can assure you that the direwolf at this point is unrecognizable from a wolf. It is not yet grown enough. His Grace had hunted a wolf for it's pelt just today, but couldn't skin it due to the incident. I will just hack the head off and give it to my lovely cousin." Then he handed Eddard a vial with an essence. "Sweetsleep. Will make the wolf sleep. Best send her away tonight."

Lord Stark thought again, but then he nodded. "Alright. I will do the preparations for it. Good luck, Ser Alek." Then the man went right back to kneeling at the direwolf and ordered his best man, a certain Jory Cassel, to go to the tent with the wolf and hack the head off.

* * *

 _Where in the seven hells is the godsdamned direwolf. Stupid animal._

The Lion Knight had a torch in his hand, looking through the woods carefully after the direwolf. The night was starless tonight, clouds blocking the moon and the stars. The woods around Darry seemed to stretch forever, yet they were nowhere as big as the Kingswood.

As he looked, he heard the familiar growl of the wolf behind him. He turned around, and immediately lightened his face with the torch he had. He reached out one hand to the wolf. Nymeria seemed to understand him, the smart wolf. What he didn't expect was the butcher's boy, who was reported as missing, to reappear.

"Mycah? You seem to be a very smart lad, if you were able to fool the Hound and find Nymeria at the same time."

"It was pure luck, m'lord. I never ran so fast in my life."

He came to the boy and ruffled his hair. "You're smart. We need smart men like you helping around. You're a good fighter, you'll make a great hedge knight someday." Then, the Lion Knight had an idea. "You know what? I need a new squire, and you are capable enough to be a squire. We shouldn't choose people by birth, but by skill."

Mycah's eyes went wide. "But I am just a butcher's boy. I am not worthy. I am lowborn."

"Ser Duncan the Tall was too, Flea Bottom born and bred. Now come. We must bring you back to camp". Oddly enough, the direwolf seemed to understand exactly what he said. _Something's off with those direwolf. All of them seem like animal versions of their master._ The balanced Grey Wind and Robb, the pensive wolf and Bran, the dominant male like Marlon, the wild Shaggydog and Rickon, the solemn and quiet Ghost for Jon Snow. And then there were Lady and Nymeria, both courteous and fierce like Sansa and Arya, respectively. _A courteous wolf. My, my, those Starks are really an interesting bunch._

As he arrived back in the Stark side of camp with Nymeria, she was quickly put to the sleep with sweetsleep and quickly escorted out northwards by loyal bannermen, who were also familiar with the wolves. After they disappeared out of sight, Lord Stark sighed in relief. Then he turned to Alek.

"You surprise me, Lion Knight. Why help us, foreign northerners to you."

The Lion Knight turned serious. "I have a reputation to mantain."

"Yes, you do, but why? Why are you the Lion Knight?"

The Lion Knight begun: "Me and my squires, you know my brother Tyrek, and my cousins Martyn and Willem, were in an inn at the Goldroad. We were returning to King's Landing after a visit to the Rock. From outside, it seemed abandoned. We just entered, to see that it was full of drunken banditd and that they were trying to rape a woman. I killed the man and me and my squires chased them out. The guard we had killed the men we could. It turned out it was Lady Leona Lefford. Our fame spread and after other deeds, I was called the Lion Knight."

Lord Stark began to smile. A wonder. The Lion Knight almost thought he wasn't able to.

"An honourable Lannister. A good thing, that is. You have my eternal respect and the hospitality of Winterfell will be forever yours."

"The Lion Knight shook his head, laughing. "I am doing it because I have to honour my father".

This seemed to attract the attention of Eddard Stark.

"He killed his first man as a squire on the Stepstones, in the War of Ninepenny Kings. He was a good man, but my uncle Tywin's actions and him not being able to grow out from his shadow made him bitter. His last words were 'Do what I have never achieved. Become your own person. Don't let Tywin overshadow you, my son. Promise me. Promise me you will make your brother become like you.'"

Lord Eddard grew somber again. Then he spoke: "From how you described your father, he must have been a good man. He would be proud. You're your own man and Lord Tywin cannot overshadow your deeds."

Ser Alek smiled at that. A genuine smile, not the fake, cocky Lannister smile. No, the Marbrand smile, the warm one, like the burning flames on the Marbrand sigil.

"Thank you, Lord Stark. One day, I will tell you of my other deeds, but I will retire for now." He bowed, then he left.

* * *

He just entered his tent, which he shared with his brother. He had brought Mycah back to his parents in the meatwagon. They were in tears and thanked him for saving their boy and taking him as a squire. He told them he would search for proper clothes when they arrived in King's Landing and he would start training and start be respected. He had told Mycah he would be ridiculed at first and he'd have to prove his valour before anyone would respect him. He understood it.

He was broken out of his thoughts by his brother. "Where have you been? The King wanted to see you!"

Alek's face remained solemn. "Fullfilling my oath to father."

* * *

 **So, I have started to post again. Hurra! I have pre-written several chapters and I will try to post daily. However, my vacation time hinders me somewhat. So don't worry, I am still alive. The next chapter will be back into the Dornish Marches!**


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